The beginnings of summer.

My only other favourite time of the year other than monsoons is when winter's slowly but surely giving way to sultry summers. The weather is breezily warm, there's a sleepy freshness in the air and the light is just beautiful. The evenings are made for parents and grandparents to sit out in verandahs and balconies, catching up on life, everyday mundaneness and gossip with neighbours; for the young ones to feel the stirrings of crushes and steal glances at eligible, teenage love; for the kids to get out on the streets and play till late in the night when the power goes off.

It brings back smiling memories, the days when i was 14 and power cuts were as much a part of our lives as mugging for exams. I used to stand at the wrought-iron, shoulder-level gate for hours and look up at the sky, wonder about everything and nothing. I remember my landlord's kids - all of them, except for the younger one, much much older than i was - and i playing Lock and Key or Chain Cut on the road. The landlord's oldest son and me sitting on the steps of the terrace, hidden from the world under the shade of the towering, swaying coconut tree, with him hugging my shoulders from behind as i cried while he said sorry over and over, telling me that he was sorry he was dating somebody else but that he really liked me and didn't know what to do. My being just 14 and him being 20. I remember it like it was just yesterday,

I remember the summer of my tenth standard in Hyderabad. Living in the Janaki Nagar house, sharing a mutual fascination with the boy across the road as the tunes of Ali Haider's Chand sa mukhda and the Amitabh/Daler Mehendi hit Nananana re mingled with the heat waves and wafted into my bedroom. The lights going on and off in our respective rooms as if in a private Morse Code. Waking up to a breakfast of thick , ice-cold Mango milkshake or Sheermal Nahari. Reading Asterix, my first late night movie - Jurassic Park - with mom, uncle, grandma and uncle's friend. Making friends with the kids next door and indulging in endless hours of play mostly involving water as a respite from the heat.

My first party when i was 19, with the creative director of the agency i was interning at, and whom i had asked out for coffee. His favourite song then - Chod na re from Kaante and how we listened to it in his Gypsy. Getting dropped off at PK's place after the party, a tentative hug and a peck on the cheek, holding hands on the road as we walked to her place from where the Gypsy was parked.

Stolen evenings from work at The Nameless One's place, where we spent nights that ended too soon, sharing secrets and kisses. A late ride to the outskirts of the city on a whim, looking for accomodation for a night (at which we didn't succeed).

Endless drives with The Boy, sneaking into a hidden side road and cuddling up under a sky shimmering with stars from between the coconut trees. Getting caught and being called 'the wife who was leaving the city' to explain why we were doing what we were doing. My heart skipping more than a beat when that happened.

Yep, this time is my favouritest because of the memories it brings. The breeze escorts the shiny bubbles storing the follies of my youth from faraway lands and leaves them at the doorstep of my mind. As the season comes around again, maybe i'll hope, long and wish for new rememberances to be formed. And i'll be young again. Young, and in love.